Feedback Loops and Empathy
by Roguish Smile
Summary: Another Romy Antarctica fic. Remy tells someone what happened to cause the events of the trial. With... perhaps a little twist...


AN: OK, have read a few Gambit-post-Antarctica fics. And the general thought seems to be that Rogue left him because of his own self-hate and wish to die (that she had absorbed from him). But if he wanted to die that much, why did he bother getting back at all? Just my own thoughts on the matter. Well… Remy's really, but that's not the point…

Bear in mind I have not read this sequence of comics, so if it's completely off… well… call it AU.

There are bits here with accent, because I really enjoy writing this accent whether or not it's any good. There are other bits without accent because I believe that thoughts should be written without accent (because, even if you do have an accent, to you it appears that every one else has accents. D'ya see?)

...

OK, I'll leave you alone now… enjoy.

...

...

...

"Dere's always been some people who t'ink dat an accent 's got somet'ing to do wit' intelligence. ''e's not smart enou' t' talk like us' dey say. Don' t'ink about 'heritage' an' all dat kinda stuff. Dey learn t' talk dere way, and no one else 's 'loud to talk any diff'rent. Dis is 'ow I learned t' talk. An' d'y' know what?" Ember-like eyes in the dark met mine, acknowledged the slight question in my own, asking him to continue. The glint of a smile, white teeth. "It means that every time I go up to someone and talk to them like this," He enunciated, accent suddenly gone, without a hint of its ever existing. "I'm Mr. Anonymous off the street, with even fewer links to my true life than any other thief."

...

Empathy is a funny thing. Emotions, especially human emotions - and I should point out that my empathy isn't limited to just those - are incredibly fickle things, and can flash and flare seemingly without any provocation. The smallest things - a scent, or daydreamed memory - can cause emotion stronger than any confrontation. And on occasion small emotions, little whispers of want or need, desire, anger, guilt… they can creep past shields without warning and batter down defences from the inside. Especially once you really know someone. Somehow if you know someone well, it's almost as if your shields recognise them and let them through. And it's easy to know who's emotion is who's because you can recognise them, like accents, you see. Just like you recognise their voice, you can recognise their emotions.

My own emotions I learned to control quickly because, defences so strong to the outside world were hard to reverse, and often I found my own emotion leaking out of myself. This so called 'charm' power. Simply my desire, like any other male's, man or boy, getting me into trouble because I had the ability to make that emotion into a real, a substantial thing, that could leak out of me and affect those around me. Control has always been part of my life.

My attraction to Rogue was something I could not control. And maybe that was what got me into more trouble than it was worth. Distrust in the emotions of those I felt strongly for was ingrained - how could I be sure it wasn't my own emotion rubbing off on them, my charm power taking control of both sides of the relationship. How could I know that if I walked away, her own emotions would be the ones to tell her to follow me. Empathy is a funny thing.

...

"Y' know anyt'in' 'bout science?" I answered with a short shake of my head, let him continue to explain as he wished to. In truth I was a little surprised about the seamless return of the accent. But this was his show, let him tell it as he wished to. "Well what 'appen' in 'tarctica was a feed-back loop. Got somet'in' t' do wit' science." I had heard about Antarctica, he had already given me the condensed version. A tragic tale of betrayed love, it had come across as a bit of a cheap holiday-novel. Woman's trust betrayed, abandons her love to die. Weeks later, once he has fought his way back to her, takes him back into her arms and is forgiven. Though how a feedback loop comes into it… I decided to listen instead of muse. "T' firs' t'in' dat 'appen' was de kiss. In some ways t' kiss had always figured largely in our long-term plans. 't was almos' as if 't were more importan' t' her dan relationships, or sex. All she wanted in her life was a kiss. Prefer'bly one dat di'n' wreck 'er mind or someone else'. Sometimes I was tempted t' try 't out, because above all else, I know I'm a great kisser," I was chagrined at the blatant arrogance, but didn't challenge him. "an' 't migh' jus' o' bin wort' it, t' 'ave someone knowing 'bout all t' guilt I was tryin' t' hide from. But Rogue 'ad 'nough pain in 'er past wit'out me addin' t' it, so I kept holdin' back. When de end o' t' world came roun', we figured we bot' 'ad not'in' t' lose, she wouldn' 'ave time t' t'ink over anyt'in' she learn from me anyway. But timing was everyt'in'. I figured I could hold meself t'gether for two minutes 'fore Rogue started really doin' any damage so… two minutes 'fore t' end o' t' world, we kissed.

"Murphy's law, t'ough, took affect jus' afta dat when Rogue realise', not only was she still alive, and the world still here, I was headed fo' t' other end o' t' scale. By dis point I had t'ree weeks sleepin' t' do 'fore I was goin' anywhere, and Rogue was filled wit' guilt and pain and shit that she had no claim to an' no right t' suffer. Memories of a crime she'd never committed. Lives she'd never taken.

"I keep meself sane by locking those memories far away, so I don' wake t' their screams, t' th' blood on children's faces, clot'es, bodies. Th' blood on t' walls… When Rogue absorbs someone she don' get deir memories in any kind o' order. Ones I 'ad 'idden from meself were as open fo' 'er as dose I treasured. No wonder she ran. Curious t'ough, dat she wen' t' Seattle. Findin' 'er there, among ol' memories."

...

Some things you do in life because you think they're right or you've been told it's the right thing to do. Some things you do because you're forced into a corner and if you don't take whatever way out is offered to you, you're resigning yourself to death. Or to a living hell that's often a worse option. My powers were taking over and I was losing myself to them. Sinister offered me a way out. I wasn't ready to die. It wasn't until much later that I realised the way out he offered me just lead me further into the corner I had been forced into.

Seattle was where he found me, a living time bomb sat screaming in a theatre because the emotions of the room had got too much for me. I'd charged the seats. Not just my seat, but the whole theatre. I just wanted them to be quiet. I just… he came to me after that and I would have taken any hand offered to me in comfort. But then the comfort faded as quickly as it was offered and his way out turned out to be the way of living hell. Suddenly I wasn't so sure I'd made the right decision. But I would ask for another way out and he would throw down the shields he had created for me, and watch, amused, as I charged everything around me. I was out of control and the shields he had given me made me reliant, dependant.

So used to having my empathy loud and strong in my head, I couldn't tell when Sinister began manipulating me. Lying through his teeth about his plans. I was stupid and I knew it. I should have seen it coming. And I'm never going to let that guilt go.

...

"When de trial began I couldn' blame anyone fo' deir reactions t' what dey heard. I 'ad a reason for not telling dem dese t'ings. I tried t' ignore what was goin' on, watchin' Rogue instead. I watched 'er wince and flinch as dey talked 'bout what I'd done. 'Cause she knew. She di'n' jus' know, she'd seen it. She'd been there, wit' th' screams an' th' blood. An' she felt as guilty as I did fo' ev'ry one of dose people. 'Cause I had given 'er my guilt, an' my responsibility for dose lives. I don' t'ink it was worth it, no matter how good de kiss was.

"When she condemned me t' death later… well dat's 'ow the feedback loop comes in."

...

Feedback: the return to the input of a part of the output of a machine, system or process. Think about it like this…

Wrapped up in those emotions that belonged to the images of the Massacre was a great deal of self-hate. A great deal to the factor of… if I hadn't have met Stormy when I did I might not still be here today… I don't think I've ever admitted that before…

And when Rogue absorbed that, she saw it for what it was and it became her own hate for me. And perhaps just a little desire that I was dead.

(Input)

When those memories were brought to the surface again, so were the emotions. Suddenly my Roguie wants me dead and… yeah, maybe I want me dead too. So we take a trip to Antarctica.

(Output)

As we talk, I'm preparing my self for this. I'm letting my walls fall. Suddenly I know that the emotion in Rogue's head, her anger, her rage… it's mine. Like I said before, I can recognise emotions and it was like listening to Rogue talking with my own voice. Didn't mean I was any less likely to die, but it did make me curious. And now I'm back to the Input, and looking for Rogue's real emotions… and pushing part of my own self out of the way I find Rogue fighting a screaming battle with herself and more than that… I find the kind of love I'd never seen before. Not even in Rogue, who I'd been close to all this time. I'd just never looked hard enough.

And the loop's complete. But I'm not any less dead, walking through Antarctica alone. I know how strong my emotions are, I've fought with them all my life. Rogue's not coming back for me. But I don't want to die any more, the self-hatred is just a little tempered because I know that, despite everything she's learned about me… Rogue still loves me.

...

"So we'd got dis… loop t'ing goin'. An' now I gotta get 'ome 'fore she tries t' move on." I frown at him, I thought he had told me once before that he had gotten home and fallen into his lovers arms. But then… what would he still be doing still in Antarctica… I nod, more to myself than to him. "Better get movin'." He sighs, standing awkwardly. "Y' comin'?" He looks down at me. I accept the offer of company, it is lonely out here and, though lean, this man is too much of a bounty to give up. My black eyes meet his and once again I feel the soft brush of his mind against mine, what had drawn me to him in the first place. He smiles and nods. "'m not done yet 'member. You wait you're turn, like ev'ryone else." I spread my wings wide and throw myself into the frigid air, staying overhead. I don't think I've ever had such a curious not-quite-meal-yet. And somehow I find myself hoping that he reaches his goal. Not that I won't eat his remains if he fails… oh no, just… I might fight off the odd attacker for him. To protect my stakes in the meat, you understand. There's a chuckle from down below me, he senses my confusion. And onwards we go, still walking. Who knows, we might both see this to the end.


End file.
